


jackpot

by sixtotenpotatoes (schiefergrau)



Series: tumblr prompt fills [2]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Prompt Fill, White House Era (Crooked Media RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schiefergrau/pseuds/sixtotenpotatoes
Summary: For a blissful moment, the world is spinning like normal.Prompt fill for: “Please put your penis away!”





	jackpot

**Author's Note:**

> If you know someone mentioned in this story or are mentioned yourself, please click away. This is a work of fiction about fictional characters who happen to share their names and faces with some real people. I'm aware of the difference between them, and I trust you are as well.  
> Please do not share this work with anyone outside of fandom spaces.
> 
> Many thanks to [obsessivelymoody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelymoody/pseuds/obsessivelymoody) and [tommyandthejons](https://tommyandthejons.tumblr.com) for beta reading and hand holding. <3

Even though his fingers are still hovering over the keyboard in silent hope of an epiphany, Jon knows it’s a fruitless hope. Not once in the past ten minutes has he been able to focus on the screen for more than thirty seconds straight. Maybe it was a mistake to retreat to his bed, but it’s not like there are any more attractive options, and in general, he works just fine from his bed, thank you very much. 

As if to prove it, he types three sentences. Then he reads them back and deletes everything. Maybe not today. It would have really been great if he had finished what he’s working on before tomorrow, so he could review it with Favs, but it just seems he’s out of words, and entirely out of motivation, at least for today. 

So it’s not exactly unwelcome when there’s a knock on the door and Tommy’s voice, asking, “Lovett? Do you have five minutes? I—”

“Yes, sure, as long as we don’t have this conversation through the door.”

When the door opens, Jon groans on the inside. This might have been a mistake. Seeing Tommy in leisure wear is not something one gets used to so easily it seems, and those pants would be dangerous on almost anyone, let alone on Tommy. 

“Great.” Jon claps his hands together to stop himself from staring. “Now that you’re here you can help me decide which version of the closing paragraph is the better one.” 

If he has to endure Tommy looking like this in his room then the least Tommy can do is make himself useful.

“I—,” Tommy starts, probably to remind Jon that _he_ was the one who wanted to talk to Jon, but then he shrugs. “Yeah, sure, why not? Go on, read them to me.”

“Sit down.” Jon makes a generous gesture with his hand; far too generous for the space he’s actually able to offer, he realizes. 

Tommy has also identified the problem–the only chair in the room is occupied with what is probably half of Jon’s clothes–and stands a bit helpless in the middle of the room. 

“Sit down,” Jon repeats curtly, nodding to the foot of his bed. He clears his throat and begins reading out loud to distract from the heat in his cheeks. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see Tommy hesitate before he finally sits down on the opposite end of the bed. Jon’s bed. It feels slightly too intimate, having Tommy in here, sitting on his bed. It does something to Jon’s insides he doesn’t appreciate. At all. 

He doesn’t let himself look too close or feel too much. He just reads out loud and listens to what Tommy has to say. At least he’s being relatively helpful and Jon finally figures out what bugs him about the final paragraph. It’s less thanks to Tommy’s help and more the talking about the thing that helps in the end, but it’s enough for a quick thank you between frantically noting everything he wants to change about it. Tomorrow. 

When he looks again he can see Tommy looking unreasonably pleased with himself, leaning back and grinning at him. Jon’s just about to take it back and tell Tommy he wasn’t any help at all, just because, when Tommy makes a face and reaches behind himself. 

For a blissful moment, Jon has no idea what Tommy found—and guesses it’s probably an empty soda can. For a blissful moment, the world is spinning like normal.

And then Tommy pulls his hands out from behind the pillow and what he’s holding is very much not a soda can. It’s a dildo.

It takes Jon approximately 0.2 seconds to understand what’s happening and 0.8 seconds of feeling mortified shame running hot through his body to decide on which course of action to take. 

“Congratulations. You won the jackpot!” he announces as chipperly as he can while feeling like wanting to die on the spot. He has to push through this. He can not let shame dictate his relationship with his new housemates. He needs to get the upper hand in this. And he’s going to be very cool and very jovial about it. He’s not going to panic. All of this he tells himself while he feels feverish and nauseous, while his hands shake and his heart hammers. 

To his luck, Tommy doesn’t notice any of it. He’s still sitting there, unmoving, eyes fixed on the dildo in his hand. 

“This is a dildo,” he says after a while, in a voice so neutral it infuriates Jon.

“Yes, Tommy. That’s a dildo. You wanna keep it?” Offense is the best defense, Jon desperately reminds himself and his racing heart. “I mean, it’s barely used. And always with a condom, so don’t worry. You know, the jelly stuff is bad for you. I don’t even know why they make sex toys out of it if it’s not safe for human mucous membranes. How does that make sense?”

Tommy slowly puts the dildo down on the bed between them, closer to Jon than to himself. His ears are bright red and he’s still not looking at Jon. So at least to a certain extent, he was able to shift the shame. Jon allows himself to count that as a success.

“I—sorry,” Tommy mumbles.

“It’s fine. But now you know better for next time.”

“It’s—I—yeah.” Tommy lets his head hang low, shoulders moving evenly with every deep breath he takes. He’s still so scarlet red that Jon almost feels a bit sorry for barely being ashamed anymore. Almost. Deep inside he can’t stop feeling a bit gleeful at having successfully shamed someone like Tommy Vietor. 

“Okay, back to your problem. What did you want?” he asks, much more at ease now. That could have gone worse. 

“I wanted—I—” Tommy stammers and rubs his neck. His eyes seem to be unable to find a point to rest on and it’s like he can’t decide what to do with his hands.

Jon has never seen him like this before, so completely beside himself. Who knew what powers purple dildos contained within themselves?

“You know, about—” Tommy tries again but once again he doesn’t end the sentence. 

“Tommy, your point?” Jon’s feeling the moment of triumph fade, slowly but surely. If they’ll do this here long enough he’s going to end up being embarrassed again.

“Sorry, sorry. But could you maybe, you know, put the thing away?”

“Huh?”

“Please put your penis away!” Tommy blurts out. 

“My—my penis?” Jon laughs. “Are you serious now? My penis?”

“Your dildo, fuck, I don’t care, please put it away,” Tommy says it like it’s one long word, without breathing, without looking at Jon.

And suddenly it hits Jon what this is about. His stomach turns, the knowledge burns bitter in the back of his throat. 

“No.” No, he’s not going to do that. This is not going to happen. 

“Why do you have to make this dif—”

“Because this is my fucking room, Tommy. And even if I wanted to plaster all the walls with 10-inch sucker dildos—that would still be none of your business.”

“Yeah, sure, I’m just not—” he shifts awkwardly in his spot, red-faced, looking anywhere but at Jon.

“Oh, are you uncomfortable? Do I make you uncomfortable?” Jon sneers. He should have guessed where Tommy’s reaction came from. It’s always the same. Guys like Tommy are always the same. Jon doesn’t know why he’s even surprised or why he was so stupid to ever dare to believe otherwise. 

He lifts his chin and spits, “Well, tough luck, Tommy. I’m not gonna get any less gay.”

“Why would I want you to be less gay?” Tommy asks, and finally he looks at Jon again. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Jon laughs. It sounds exactly as bitter as he feels. “It’s not being gay in general or even me being gay specifically that annoys you. You just don’t like being reminded of it, right? You would prefer me to be quietly gay, without anyone ever noticing. Or at least without _you_ noticing.”

Tommy has a deep furrow between his brows as if he’s genuinely not getting Jon’s point. It’s almost more infuriating for Jon that he’ll have to spell it out. 

Tommy starts to ask, “What are you even talking about? I just wanted you to put the thing away—”

“—because you don’t like to face to fact that a big part of my sexuality involves dicks!” interrupts Jon him. 

“No!”

“No? So what is it then?!” Jon grabs the dildo and for a second he contemplates throwing it into Tommy’s face, but then he thinks better of it. He holds it by the base with one hand and closes the other one around it in a firm grip. 

He lowers his head, looks at Tommy from under his lashes and asks, in a low voice, “What is it, Tommy? Hm? Are you worried it’s actually _your_ dick I want? That I think of _you_ when I use this?” He emphasizes his words with a harsh glide of his hand over the artificial dick. 

Tommy’s eyes are transfixed to Jon’s hands and his sharp intake of breath sounds like thunder in the quiet room.

“Are you afraid I lie in bed at night,” Jon continues in the same tone, never stopping the wanking motion on the dildo, “imagining you fucking me until I come all over my sheets? Huh, Tommy? What is it?”

Tommy makes a sound that can only be described as a whimper—and then Jon sees it, the bulge in Tommy’s pants. 

He freezes. Tommy’s hard. Because of Jon or— 

“Do you have some kind of humiliation kink?” he asks because that’s the only thing that would make even remotely sense to him right now. 

He stares at Tommy and realizes he’s still holding the dildo with both hands. He feels endlessly silly about it. So much, that it makes his skin crawl. But he can’t bring himself to move, and anyway, putting it away would just make it the center of attention again and god, Jon’s not sure if this could get any more awkward then it already is. His thoughts are racing and over that, he almost misses Tommy vigorously shaking his head.

“No, I—” he says. “No. It’s not that.” 

“Okay.” Jon finally manages to shake himself out of the stupor and shoves the dildo under a pillow. He’s not going to keep the thing, that much is for sure. He would never be able to use it without thinking of Tommy, and Tommy’s dick that’s unfortunately not gotten any less hard in the passing minute. Jon checked, out of the corner of his eye, and with a mixture of curious fascination and shame. 

“Okay,” he repeats. “But you know this is a safe space? We don't have to talk about it, but I’m not going to judge you. Seriously, it’s not even that uncommon. I think there are probably more people than you would guess who—”

“Lovett,” Tommy interrupts him almost desperately. “I _don’t_ have a humiliation kink!”

“Then why are you— why is your—” Jon makes an impatient noise and waves his hands in the direction of Tommy’s crotch. “Why?!”

Tommy rubs his hands over his face and sighs deeply before he says, “You know that I was honestly contemplating for a moment if you thinking of me as a homophobic piece of shit would be better than telling the truth?”

Jon stares at him, stunned speechless for a moment. Then he huffs. “Oh, come on, it can’t be _that_ bad.”

“Not?” Tommy laughs, sharp and unpleasant. “I don’t know, Lovett. How bad does ‘I’m stupidly into my new housemate and can’t stop thinking about him’ sound to you?” 

He’s wide-eyed and has a look on his face that Jon’s never seen on him before. When he leans forward it’s almost too close for Jon’s liking. “How bad does it sound when I tell you that I’m lying awake at night, cursing the fucking wall between our rooms?”

Blood rushes in Jon’s ears, so loud that it seems impossible to form any clear thought. He whispers, “I… I’m not sure what you’re saying?”

“How bad does it sound to you that when I figured out that the thing poking into my back was your stupid dildo I got hard instantly because now the only thing I can think about is you fucking yourself? How bad does it sound when I tell you I didn’t think I could get any more crazy about you than I already was—and yet here we are?” He breathes heavy and averts his eyes almost immediately. He looks like someone who lost all their momentum at one. 

“That sounds pretty bad,” Jon blurts out, because it’s the first thing he can think of, and because he has absolutely no control over his tongue whatsoever. 

When he sees Tommy turning pale, he quickly adds, “I mean, you just told me that you have absolutely no taste, so that’s pretty bad news. Other than that...” He shrugs. There’s a glimmer in his chest that’s lighting up and a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

Tommy lifts his gaze from his hands, a slow smile spreading on his face. One that reaches and lights up his eyes. One that makes him look soft and beautiful and heartachingly young.

“I think my taste is just fine, Lovett,” he says softly, but Jon can hear uncertainty shining through his words.

They’re both so careful, he realizes. Moving forward step by step, bumping into each other ever so softly, testing the waters to avoid any vortexes. But he doesn’t know how to be better at this. Not when he doesn’t have the right words, not yet. 

“Okay. Then, I’m—” Jon begins. “I’m just gonna…” 

He leans forward until he’s in Tommy’s space, lifts his hand and lets his fingers brush the side of Tommy’s jaw in a silent question. It’s a gesture so much bolder than Jon feels.

Tommy’s smile widens and he leans into the touch, and finally Jon thinks that he might not have misunderstood this. 

“I’m just gonna…” he whispers again before leaning in and pressing his lips to Tommy’s. 

It doesn’t even take a second for Tommy to kiss back. And even if Jon doesn’t fully understand how the fuck they even got here, he’s not going to complain. He’s so not going to complain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on [tumblr](https://sixtotenpotatoes.tumblr.com/) / Fic [post](https://sixtotenpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/182541965054/57)


End file.
